


Tax Purposes

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Series: Dragon Benefits [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry is the Hot Girl, Dragon Eggs, Dragon Len Loves Scarves, Dragons, Gen, Humor, Leonard Snart is an Asshole, Scarves, dragon fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7438786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, Barry Allen, why are you interested in bonding with a dragon?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tax Purposes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prouvairablehulk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairablehulk/gifts).



> "Barry, put this ring on so people know we have an arrangement." -Leonard Snart, probably
> 
> You're probably wondering why tf i'm starting yet another series. I'm just as confused and frustrated as you are. BUT HEY, the Royal Ward deserves things. So here, sweet child: have a surprise thing from Dragon Mom.

When Barry gives the honest answer, he can't look the Keeper in the eye. He's done plenty of research on this: humans, and humanoid creatures besides, have sought dragons for centuries in search of glorious battles, treasure, even a few noble causes here and there like protecting the innocent. In modern times, people want their bonds for fame, mostly. And only wealthy, already famous people look for them anyway.

Yet here stands an average guy at the doorstep of Central City's shining Star Citadel looking for a dragon...so he can get tax benefits.

Legally, the Keepers can't turn him away. Even though the only thing Barry's got going for him is a badge—a forensic analyst one, but it counts—he's got enough good citizen marks for admittance, and he paid the (absurdly high) fee for the opportunity. And really, it's not Barry's fault that he can get a major deductible, among other helpful things, if he's got a dragon-bond. He might have a steady job, but he also lives in a city. Something's gotta give, and apparently Iris thought that'd be a dragon giving Barry a chance.

Odds are Barry's gonna walk outta here empty-handed, both literally and figuratively. But his family was right; he  _did_ score pretty high on bonding potential when he was a kid. Standard procedure for everyone in the country. If nothing else, the Keeper can at least be a little mollified by that.

Dr. Caitlin Snow, as it says on her own badge, does indeed raise an eyebrow at his paperwork. She still regards him with a flat expression.

"'Tax purposes'?" she asks, as if Barry's a piece of gum stuck to her obscenely high heels.

Barry scratches behind his ear. "Um. Yeah...?" at her narrowed eyes, he hurriedly adds, "Look, I know it's a pretty lousy reason, and believe me, I'm expecting a bond as much as you probably are for me, but. I mean, technically you can't turn me down, so? Maybe just a chance? I kinda need the cash."

That sounded way better in his head. He winces as Dr. Snow's censorious glare.

Nevertheless, she presses a button on her intercom and says briskly, "Cisco. You've got a tour. Name is Barry Allen."

The voice on the other end sounds way more chipper than Barry could've hoped for:  _"Awesome! I'll be right over!"_

Unfortunately, that means Barry and Dr. Snow are stuck in awkward silence until Cisco arrives. Barry stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets, taking another appreciative look around: the Citadel's Administrative Building is located at the very front of the ringed wall that surrounds the dragons' fields and chambers. The domed reception room has detailed murals on the ceiling of riders and dragons in various states of picturesque harmony, while the rest of the lower walls are painted cream and adorned with a few smaller professional photographs of scenery taken from dragonback, mostly mountains and clouds. The floor's solid marble, and so's the high-topped desk in the very center, where Dr. Snow is now studiously ignoring Barry in favor of typing away at the computer.

There are two heavy oak doors, both with modern grey labels on the sides: in capital letters and Braille, the left reads  _Registration_ , while the right says the eponymous  _Administration_. They stand on either side of a looming archway directly behind Reception that leads towards the autumn sunshine. Thankfully there aren't any dragons in view of the glass doors; Barry doesn't think he can handle that yet.

This silence is killing him.

Much as he's likely to fail, Barry tries anyway. "So, uh...it's getting chilly out, isn't it?"

Dr. Snow raises her eyebrow again. "Are you trying to talk to me about the  _weather_?"

Yeah, probably should've thought about that one. "Um. What's your doctorate in?"

She doesn't try to hide her eye roll, but indulges him. "Bioengineering."

"And you're working reception?"

Barry cows under her cold look. "I happened to be available. The usual receptionist had a family emergency, and I'm filling in until he gets back."

"Oh. Okay." another awkward pause. "Do you..." what can he say? "Do you have a dragon? I mean, since you work here—"

She bites with sudden ferocity, "You don't have to have a dragon to work here. Are you done interviewing me, or would you like my resumé too?"

On that note, a shadow appears in the glass door. Not a second later, a short smiling guy with a soot-covered Spock t-shirt and jeans is bounding into the room with a smile that's so big Barry can't help but think  _Oh thank God._

The guy, obviously Cisco, spreads his arms in a grand gesture and cries, "Welcome to the Inner Sanctum of Dragons, good sir!" his words echoing twice as loud in the room's startling acoustics. "How may I be of service to you today?"

Thank.  _God_.

Barry's immediately smiling back. "I was hoping to bond with a dragon."

Dr. Snow helpfully cuts in, "For  _tax purposes_."

But Cisco claps Barry on the shoulder and says, "No worries bro, I feel you. I got a dragon myself, and  _man oh man_ does it help with the finances. Don't worry, young Padawan: we will find you a beast worthy of that moolah."

That settles it: even if Barry's not getting a dragon today— _or ever_ , his brain supplies—he's definitely gonna get a friend.

As they walk back towards the doors, away from Dr. Snow's irritated mumbling, Barry asks, "What's your dragon like? If you don't mind my asking."

"Are you kidding me? I never pass up dragon bragging rights, my man. First rule: you got a dragon, _flaunt it_. They love when you do." Cisco pushes the doors open with a flourish. "Lucky for you, he's just landed. Behold!"

Barry's mouth drops.

Dragons. Dragons everywhere.

Okay, there are only like, four dragons tops, but it's still way more than Barry's used to seeing up close. The precinct has maybe two, counting Captain Singh, and he's yet to see the other one. Not that there aren't plenty of dragons in the city, but he's never gone face to face with so many. Not like this.

And just as Cisco said, a fifth dragon has just landed, enormous purple-webbed wings still finishing the final flaps before settling fully on the ground. He's lean-muscled and, if Barry had to guess, about seventy feet tall. His scales are solid black that fade into gray on his legs and patched on the arms of his wings. He has one horn, sharpened and polished to a fine, gleaming point on his snout like a rhino, with tiny spikes adorning the back of his head instead of a ruff. His tail, with its likewise shining silver spikes and smooth, axe-shaped end, curls around his short hindlegs while his longer forelegs push his posture into a perfect straight-backed sit.

Barry needs no introduction.

"Dr. Harrison Wells?" he nearly shrieks, turning red at the stares he gets, "Your dragon is  _Harrison Wells_? You're Cisco  _Ramon_?"

He can't believe he didn't recognize him; the name's not all that common, after all. Then again, the Cisco Ramon in the magazines is stiff-necked in his clean-cut suit and not at all the focus in his photographs with the enormous Dr. Wells, while this one is loose and grinning, with goggles on top of his messy hair and smudges in odd places on his face. It didn't even occur to Barry to make the connection.

"Cisco," Dr. Wells,  _the_ Dr. Wells, calls in the refined tones Barry's used to hearing on TV and YouTube, "why did you bring a  _fan_?"

Barry ducks his head. Cisco pats his back, murmuring, "Don't feel bad, Barry. He's a dick to everyone."

"I know," Barry mumbles, "I read his biography. Twice," he admits.

Cisco grins. "Well come on over! He doesn't bite; I mean, he can, but that was one time. We're working on his manners," he adds to Barry's wide eyes.

Wells regards them steadily as they approach. He folds his wings, completing the statuesque image Barry's seen so many times. Because he's Harrison Wells. Barry is meeting Harrison Wells.

Like the starstruck idiot he is, Barry blurts, "I love your work. I mean, really. Your-your thesis on string phenomenology was  _revolutionary_ to me! I actually printed a copy of it and everything so I could—"

As Barry plummets into a ramble, Wells' patience visibly drops with each word that flies out of his stupid mouth. Even Cisco's blinking incredulously at him.

It goes on for a solid minute before Wells finally interrupts with a flat, "Do you really plan to subject a dragon to this?"

Barry shuts up. Shame heats his cheeks and neck in dark splotches of magenta.

But Cisco protests, "Hey! What did we talk about, Harry? Dude's just a little excited, that's all. Could use somebody like him around here, with everyone just," gesturing around the field, "sulking and grunting all over the place."

"I do not  _grunt_ ," Wells says, the makings of a growl underlining his words.

"Didn't deny the sulk part."

Yep, that's definitely a growl. "I do not  _sulk_ either. Get this one," indicating Barry with a jerk of his horned snout, "out of the way. You have other business this afternoon that shouldn't be wasted on hopeless cases."

Wow. Never meet your heroes.

Cisco jabs a finger up at his dragon's great head. "Just for that, I'm showing him every single dragon we've got! And see if I  _do_ take you on that afternoon flight! Come on, Barry, we've got a mighty creature waiting for you."

Barry lets himself be dragged towards the central complex, and undoubtedly the largest in Star Citadel. From above, its size is still unfathomable. The dragons' chambers stretch for miles and miles, even underground for the burrowing breeds. There's no way they'll cover every single dragon, but Cisco probably said that just to piss off Wells. Barry supposes he gets a free pass, being Wells' rider and all.

Besides, "Don't I get a couple days to try for a bond?" Barry asks.

"You get a whole week, bro," Cisco replies, "and if you don't find one, you can come back next year!"

He hits a button, and the great doors slide open like something from a spaceship. Only these look like stone, with rearing dragons facing each other. There's not even a groan or rumble as they glide, just a smooth  _swish_.

Once the doors close behind them, Barry shrugs and says, "Nah, I think I'll pass. Wells was right, anyway. This is kinda a last ditch effort, y'know? If it doesn't work out, which I don't think it will, I'll just move back in with my dad."

Cisco glowers at him. "Tsk-tsk, Barry Allen. Don't rain on your own parade. You had to've thought there was  _some_ chance, or you wouldn't've come in the first place. Caitlin sent me your results on my way over," he takes out a clearly expensive phone and waves it around, "and dude, your bonding potential is off-the-charts good. That's really rare. So you wander around, and I'm going to go into that tiny human office over there," pointing to said tiny office, nestled close to the gargantuan doors, "to compile a list of a few dragons I think'll work for you. Don't worry about getting lost; you can ask for directions no problem. I'll find you later. Okay?"

Barry scrounges up a smile. "Sure. Thanks, Cisco."

"Bro, it's what I'm here for. I'm practically Dragon-Rider Cupid. Now off with you."

They go their separate ways. Cisco disappears into the office, and Barry steels himself.

The chambers are all open at this time of day, save for the vacant, those with an absent owner, or the sick. Barry doesn't see any signs indicating the third, but it's early yet. Each chamber is structured to look like a cave, and very remarkably so. While vents have been installed for central heating and air conditioning, Barry would otherwise have believed each cavern was carved from real rock. Most are antechambers with a few items from the dragon's hoard carefully tucked into nooks, but some show the dragon's entire space, with their large windows allowing the sunlight to bathe their chosen treasures.

Barry does his best to keep a straight face when he finds that many dragons are taking this Saturday afternoon to hang out in their rooms. One dragon, bright green with startling red horizontal markings on their snout, twirls a basketball on its talonless paw; evidently they collect sports equipment. Their gleaming pink eyes consider Barry, but like their fellows, they ultimately dismiss him.

Surprisingly, most hoards aren't typical treasure. Like that green dragon, most have piles upon piles of mundane things: books, shoes, boxes of tea,  _spoons_ (yes, spoons), even animals like birds or cats. One dragon, a smallish water type, swam contentedly in their large pool among pagoda fish, occasionally running their webbed paw over the multi-colored scales with a pleased rumble. Of course Barry's read about such hoards, but he never actually believed they were so commonplace. It's logical, actually; if every dragon in the world wanted gold or jewels, Earth would've been a wasteland of fire and blood by now. Still.

It takes a load off Barry's mind. Should he bond with a dragon, at least there's a high probability he won't have to worry about priceless items surrounding him every day. He doesn't think he could handle that stress, let alone afford it—dragons are far too fond of gifts from their riders for him to think otherwise.

He wanders a while longer, turning corners and offering polite smiles, even exchanging a greeting or two. He still hasn't gotten over the shock of actually meeting so many dragons. Captain Singh is one thing, but this is indescribable.

Indescribable...and unsettling. Because Barry is  _definitely_ being watched.

If you were looking from behind him, you would see him look around. As he turns behind him and to the left, a giant blue-white head slowly peers out from a chamber to the right, not stopping until a long, graceful neck appears and a snout practically touches Barry's shoulder.

Finally, a resonant drawl echoes through the enormous hall: " _He_ llo."

Barry yelps and trips over his own feet.

"Oh," smirks the dragon once Barry's ass hits the unforgiving floor, "did I scare you?"

While undoubtedly an asshole, he's stunning. His scales are sapphire blue with veins of winter white, flowing in a pattern that resembles the bottom of a clear pool on a bright summer's day. His eyes are a bit small but no less uniquely colored: one is blue, the other green with flecks of brown. They're set in high cheek bones and fit well with his aquiline snout. His horns are not horns at all, but caribou antlers, set just in front of his salt and pepper fur ruff. Elegantly curved spikes, crystalline icicles really, adorn the back of his neck, leading to a body of subtle muscle. His talons are nimble, the closest to a human's that Barry has ever seen both online and from his personal experience from today. His physique resembles that of a lion's, though his tail is made of thick layered ice of his blue and white scales. His wings are folded completely horizontally, which isn't what Barry's seen in American breeds from Google; those dragons tilt their wings slightly upwards when folded.

So, foreign breed, but with an undeniable Central City accent. And, of course, an asshole.

 _Huh_.

"Couldn't help but notice that you look a little lost," the dragon says. Although he keeps his head down to maintain an even eye level, he stands at forty-five feet. "I've never seen you before. What's a kid like you doing wandering alone in a dragons' den?"

Barry pauses in dusting himself off. "Uh..." he decides to divert, "Cisco's getting a list together. He's gonna find me when he's done."

"A list, hm?"

"Yeah. Of uh, y'know. Possible dragons for me to meet. For bonding."

The dragon's tail twitches. "I see. And what's the name of our latest hopeful?"

It takes a moment for Barry to realize he's talking about him. "Oh! I'm Barry. Barry Allen. Um," they can't exactly shake hands, so maybe a wave will do, "nice to meet you...?"

"Leonard Snart."

"Nice to meet you, Leona— _Leonard Snart_?!"

Snart's jowls curl, revealing an impressive set of sharp gleaming teeth. "My reputation precedes me."

Barry shakes his head, "How can you be  _here_? You're a  _criminal_!"

"I have committed crime, yes," Snart drawls, "but I've never been  _convicted_ of one. There's a difference, don't you think? Don't worry,  _Barry_ , I'm an  _official_ member here. I've even sired a few eggs."

"You-you  _what_?"

Snart hums, eyes flicking downwards. "Is that a badge in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Barry splutters, "Yeah it's a badge! I might be a forensic analyst, but I can still make arrests!"

He realizes how stupid that sounds before Snart snorts and deadpans, "I'm quaking in my scales. Besides, I don't even hoard anything I steal."

"...wait, what?"

Snart sinks lower to the ground, a cat about to pounce. "Why don't you come in and I'll show you."

"I think I'll wait for Cisco," Barry says. He's got some questions for that guy, and besides, he's not going anywhere near a world-class criminal's  _lair_.

"I could just take you inside," Snart points out.

Barry throws back his shoulders and crosses his arms. Even though it's the worst idea of bad ideas, he stares the dragon down. Snart looks back with an unreadable expression.

That's how Cisco finds them.

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" he shouts, jogging over with a glare at Snart. "You stay away from this ray of sunshine, Captain Cold!"

Barry's brow furrows. "Captain Cold?"

"I give all the dragon's nicknames," Cisco proudly explains, then instantly reverts back to hostility, "this guy's not going anywhere near your den of villainy!"

"'Den of villainy,'" Snart hums with a draconic smile, " _cute_. But that's not your decision,  _Cis_ co."

Barry answers by dragging Cisco away.

 

There really isn't anything Cisco can do about Snart—er, Cold. He made his record untouchable, though how he did that, Cisco has no idea. And those eggs he claimed he sired? Yeah, those are the  _White Canary's_ eggs. As per tradition with dragons of different territories, she took half back to Starling City while he brooded over the remaining half.

One of Starling City's gems agreed to mate with one of Central City's schmucks. Barry's torn between morbidly curious and kind of freaked out when he thinks about how that could've happened.

Regardless, it did, and Cold's not going anywhere. Barry's forced to put aside the issue in favor of looking over Cisco's list. According to Cisco, he purposely cut the list down to ten names. Better to see fewer, when it comes to such an important commitment.

"Let's start from the top, buddy," he says, and off they go.

 

Unsurprisingly, Barry goes home empty-handed. He did, however, have some pleasant first meetings, which was way more than he thought he'd get.

Also no, Joe's not at all happy to find out about Snart.

Barry dreads to think about what Captain Singh will do. He's normally a very controlled dragon, but even he's bound to his species' volatile temper.

"I'll look into it," Joe promises, "and in the meantime, you stay away from him."

"Don't worry Joe," Barry says, "I'm pretty sure that's a given."

 

It takes three days for Barry to go into Leonard Snart's cave.

On Sunday, Cold's lounging in his antechamber, ready for Barry and Cisco to walk by.

"Afternoon,  _Barry_ ," he purrs, tail flicking.

Barry can't help but notice the collection of speckled blue eggs nestled between his forelegs. Dragon eggs are about half Barry's size, so it's pretty impossible not to notice them—or the solid gold resting against Cold's chest.

No, wait, that's not gold. That's another egg.

"Curious?" Cold asks.

Barry realizes he's taken a step closer, and Cisco's twitching at his sleeve. He reels back and strides determinedly forward.

"Y'know, we can always go a different way," Cisco offers later, after a second meeting with a lovely sunset yellow dragon named Patty Spivot.

But Barry shakes his head. "I won't give him the satisfaction."

Even though he's almost positive Cold's way more satisfied to see Barry than the other way around.

 

Monday, Barry can't visit the Citadel until after work. Cisco's still on his flight with Wells, but he left a map for Barry, marking the appropriate chambers in red marker. The curving layout's a bit confusing, but like Cisco said, Barry can always ask for directions.

"You're late."

Without entirely meaning to, Barry halts.

Cold regards him with narrowed eyes. "Why?"

The word comes out on a hiss of frost. Okay. Weird.

"I have work," Barry says, "Badge, remember?"

Another huff of frost, this time from Cold's flared nostrils. Suddenly, the dragon hurls to his feet and storms into his chamber.

Barry feels oddly bereft. "Uh. Okay?"

 

On Tuesday, Wells proves to have a dragon's possessive streak, keeping Cisco in the air with him for their usual allotted time. Once again, Barry ventures by Cold's chamber alone.

It's an all around bad decision.

Cold regards Barry down his snout. "Hello."

Barry rubs the back of his neck. He still doesn't know why he keeps pausing. "Hi."

"At least you're consistent with being late."

"I told you, I have work."

"Yet I checked your schedule."

"What—?"

"You, Barry, are ten minutes late. Yesterday, you were fifteen minutes late."

Barry sighs, "I'm kinda always late. It's a thing with me. Iris, my best friend, says it's a condition." he smiles a little at the memory.

Cold yanks his attention back by padding forward. "Then Woodward won't be expecting you." Barry scrunches his face at the name; not Cisco's best choice. "Which means you have another thirty-four minutes."

"...just how much of my schedule did you look at—?"

"Still don't wanna come into my  _den of villainy_ , Barry? Aren't you curious about what it is I hoard, if it's not what I steal?"

And, damn it, Barry  _is_ curious. He's been curious since their first meeting, and not just about the hoard. What about that golden egg? What does Leonard Snart's inner chamber even look like in the first place?

Cold smirks. He steps aside, making a dramatic sweeping gesture with his paw. " _Do_ come in."

All around bad decision. Barry goes anyway.

Honestly, anything's better than Tony Woodward.

 

Cold's chamber is almost Spartan: there's a nest of brown furs directly under the window, wrapped around the eggs. But that golden one sits on a pedestal of all things, surrounded by gold objects as if it has its own mini-hoard. Cold's hoard, on the other hand, doesn't look like a hoard so much as organized chaos. And Barry can't believe his eyes when he makes out what it is he collects.

" _Puzzles_?"

Cold picks up a giant Rubix cube and starts playing with it. He's obviously fascinated. "Written, spoken, living. Some people find it quite puzzling to keep track."

Barry pinches the bridge of his nose. When he's recovered, he asks, "So if you don't hoard what you steal, where does it all go?"

"Ah-ah," Cold says, "can't go telling a badge that, can I?"

Guess not. Barry huffs.

After a moment, he moves on to another question. Nodding to the pedestal, "Why's that egg separated from the others?"

Cold sets his Rubix cube aside to press his snout gently against the gold egg. "Because this, Barry," he murmurs, a deep-seated affection in his voice that surprises the human, "is my baby sister."

Barry gapes. "You have a  _sister_?"

"And she's chosen her rider already," Cold says, clearly proud of this, "my partner."

"Your part— _Mick Rory_?"

"No. Anakin Skywalker."

Did he just—? Barry shakes his head. "I can't believe this."

But somehow he can't keep his frown. A tickling in the back of his mind won't let him. It grows and grows, warm and fuzzy, until he can't help laughing out loud. Understandably, Cold blinks owlishly at him.

A hush of happy gurgling murmurs washes over the playful tickling. Barry's full on grinning now.

Cold says, "They approve of you."

If Barry didn't know any better, he'd say the dragon sounds amazed.

A moment later, the candor is replaced by a subtly puffed chest and a lofty, "Well, since you're here, we might as well _get to know_ each other. Did you know I was conceived in Russia?"

Barry, still caught on the tide of joy, cheerfully replies, "You definitely don't look like an American breed. CCPD doesn't know what you are, actually."

Cold proclaims, "I'm what roughly translates as a Winter King. While Russia has plenty of icewurms, none of them can trace their lineage back to royalty. Members of  _my_ clan were companions of the czars since they first established themselves."

And Barry can't deny, "That's cool." Even though no royal line's without its pitfalls. Though he supposes that'd be just Leonard Snart's type.

Cold appreciates the pun. "And you, Barry Allen...there's something about you. You're always late, you're clearly a goody-two shoes type, but..." he tilts his head, "the vote's unanimous. Never had one of those before."

"Vote?" Barry asks.

And then Cisco's frantic shouts are reverberating down the halls. Ignoring Cold's snarl, Barry snaps out of his little high and finally manages to find some common sense.

It's not until after he's back home that he realizes his favorite red scarf is missing from his neck.

 

On Wednesday, Barry might actually get a bond.

That dragon, Patty Spivot, is everything he wants; she's even applied to the CCPD for forensics, so they'd see each other all the time anyway. Her hoard is also a bunch of forensic case files and equipment, which they've already poured over together way past their designated hour. Plus, she's small for a dragon, standing at eighteen feet exactly (according to her), which makes it easier for them to talk without her looming over him. Instead of horns, she has tall flexible ears, with smaller white spikes running from the top of her head to the tip of her snout, and her tail has a furry end, like a lion's.

Speaking of lion features, Barry hasn't decided if he should try to retrieve his scarf or not.

But that's not relevant at the moment, because Patty's letting him stroke her snout while they have a nerd talk with Cisco. She's so  _nice—_ even though she has a beard of small spikes that match her yellow scales that he didn't see at first.

She recoils when he pokes himself. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry," she says, "I should've told you I had those."

Barry smiles and returns to her side. "Nah," he murmurs, "it's okay. They're pretty cool, actually."

She lets out a proud trill. "I got them from my sire. They're...pretty much all I have left of him."

Sharing such personal information has gotta mean something. Barry doesn't waste it: "Yeah. I don't have much left of my mom, either. People say I have her smile, but uh, that's about it."

Patty's doe eyes crinkle in understanding. "Then she must've had the prettiest smile in the world."

 _Oh_.

Barry rests his forehead next to his hand. She nuzzles him.

Cisco puts his hands on his hips and says, "Cupid strikes again."

Patty blinks. "Well, I mean, it's only Wednesday. Not," she rushes to add when Barry's shoulders slump, "not that I don't want this, I-I actually really, really do." They beam at each other. "I-I just want you to make sure that. You know. There isn't another dragon you could possibly want."

Her last words dip into a rumble, conveying what she thinks about Barry finding another. Barry feels like he could walk on air.

He blurts, "I actually came here to find a dragon for tax purposes."

And Patty laughs. She has a beautiful laugh, Barry thinks dreamily. "We'll share the guilt, then. Getting our civil rights is awesome, but that means we have to pay taxes too. I mean, I've always wanted a rider, but we _do_ get some great benefits."

They really do, and they're both gonna get them.

Barry looks at Cisco. "So how exactly do we do this?"

Patty makes a little happy noise. He nuzzles back this time, heedless of the way her scales scratch his tender human skin.

Cisco has a hand over his heart. "Follow me, children. We have some papers to sign."

 

Barry and Cisco hadn't taken the route that put them in Cold's path, and they don't take it now. Cold finds them anyway.

Or rather, he finds Barry, because apparently he's looking for him.

Patty bares her teeth on a snarl. " _Snart_."

"Spivot," Cold replies with deceptive calm, "what's this?"

Barry takes way more vindictive satisfaction than he means to when he proudly announces, "Patty and I are going to bond."

And that's when everything goes AWOL.

Snart  _roars_ in their faces, " _What_?"

Startled, the two humans jump back a step. "What?" Barry echoes, more incredulously.

That's when he notices something tied around one of Cold's antlers.

"Hey! That's  _mine_!" Barry snaps, "Give it back!"

Cold sits on his haunches. "If you want it," he goads, "come and get it."

And Barry's thinking that he just might, when Patty crouches and says, "Don't worry, Barry.  _I'll_ get it for you."

"Oh," Snart hums, " _be my guest_."

Patty lunges into the air. She uses her size and agility to her advantage to avoid Cold's initials swipes, even going so far as to actually getting Barry's scarf back with a triumphant preen.

But Cold roars again. He catches her on her way down, slamming her onto the floor hard enough to make it crack.

"No!" Barry shouts.

Cisco stops him from running forward with a hurried, "Dragon dog fight, man, dragon dog fight." With that, he rushes to a space between two chambers and yanks a lever up with two hands.

Above, the ceiling opens to reveal a cloudy sky. Both dragons look up, then back at each other. Patty glares defiantly, while Cold's muscles coil in readiness.

They look to Barry. He blinks.

"The scarf, bro," Cisco whispers, "tell the dragon you favor to wear your scarf."

The dragon he—"Is Leonard Snart  _fighting for me_?" he hisses.

"Just do it!"

"Fine, okay, um," raising his voice, "Patty, I want you to wear it."

Cold snarls while Patty triumphantly puts the scarf around her neck. She's just able to tie it in a bow towards the back of her head. Without another word, the dragons twist into the sky.

"Yeah, Spivot!" Cisco shouts after them, "Kick his villainous ass! Let's go!" he says to Barry, grabbing his wrist, "We can watch from the fields."

 

Cisco's only half-right. What seems to be the entire Citadel gathers in the fields when they hear Patty's battle cries, but the clouds obscure most of the actual fight.

They can hear it though.  _Man_ can they hear it.

Not everything, mind, but when one of them gets or scores a hit, the resulting bellows sting every ear. It gets to a point where Barry stops trying to count how many have been exchanged; although the rough wingbeats disturb the clouds, he still can't have any visible evidence.

"What's happening?" Wells finally asks.

"Dragon dog fight over Barry," Cisco quickly explains before shouting, " _Oh_ yeah, get 'im Patty!"

Barry looks over, "How do you know that was Patty?"

"I've been talking to most of these dragons for almost two years, bro. I  _know_ those majestic roars.  _Yeah, Spivot!_ No, wait, no!"

After a few minutes, Wells asks, "How did you get Snart's attention?"

Barry shrugs, "I don't know. He talked about some kinda vote when I went into his cave—"

Cisco interrupts, "You went into his cave?"

"He kept insisting! I thought it'd shut him up! And then he stole my scarf."

Wells heaves an enormous sigh. "Do you know  _nothing_ about dragons, Mr. Allen?"

Above, one of the combatants gets a nasty hit. Barry asks, "What do you mean?"

Cisco shakes his head, "Dude. Why, of all people, would he court this tall drink of joy?"

Barry chokes, " _Court_?"

Patty's slammed to the ground. Blood seeps from multiple wounds that Barry can tell from his CSI work are strategically placed. Snart lands shortly after, clawing into his opponent's side to keep her down. He's covered in strategic cuts too, smattering his blue scales with Russian breeds' silver blood.

Undeterred, he ducks his head to Patty's and pants, "I win."

"Patty!" Barry shoves away from Cisco, sprinting to her side, "Patty, are you—"

A giant set of talons strike before him, blocking his way. Snart rumbles, "Harness first.  _Rider_."

 

Dr. Snow shows up as Cisco silently holds out the forms to Barry at Registration, which turns out to be a smallish office with a door leading to a filing room.

"Heard there was a dog fight over you," she says, "gotta say, I didn't expect it."

Barry gives a small shrug. Cisco grips his shoulder and says, "Hey, at least you can get those benefits."

"I work at the CCPD," Barry says, "and my dragon is a notorious criminal. My dad is a cop. My adopted sister is a reporter. What am I supposed to do?"

Dr. Snow blinks. "Wait, so Snart's not preening over nothing again?"

"He has  _eggs_ , Cisco.  _What am I supposed to do_?"

Cisco scratches the back of his head, choosing to respond to Snow: "Yeah, no, Jack Frost won. Patty's too good for this world to lie and say he fought dirty. He earned the harness fair and square."

Snow's eyebrows furrow. "Wait, so Snart didn't fight dirty,  _and_ he's willingly bonding himself to someone?" looking at Barry, "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Barry cries.

"Y'know, that raises a good point," Cisco says. "Why did Snart want you so much? He doesn't pick physical fights unless it's a big deal to him. Hey," he says to Barry's look, "I might like him as much as Kirk like Khan, but he makes himself im _possible_ to ignore. I'm a scientist, man; observation's what I do."

"Well," Snow sighs, "that explains why Patty was so quiet. I thought it was the fatigue of battle."

Barry jolts. "How is she?"

"She'll be alright. Dragons battle over the smallest things." She even offers a small smile. "You'd be surprised."

"I wanna see her."

Cisco hisses through his teeth. "No can do, Barry. She was Snart's opponent for your bond. Once both of you are marked, you _probably_ won't give him reason to kill Patty if you visited."

" _What_?"

"I can't tell what Snart's gonna do!"

Snow waves a hand. "It'll be fine. Just fill out the form and get him marked. Good luck."

"Yeah," Barry mutters.

 

 Marks are simple. Unless you've never gotten a tattoo. Which Barry hasn't.

Fuck.

Snart hums upon seeing him, curling his tail around him to guide his new rider to his side. "So," he says, drawing out the vowel, "I was thinking your legs for my mark."

Barry's eyes widen. "My...both of them?"

"Well, you'll be marking both my wings."

" _What_?"

Snart eyes him strangely. "What were  _you_ thinking?"

Barry makes a confused flail. "I-I don't know, but—I mean, that's really not necessary! Why can't we just have...I dunno, something small? Like, on the back of your paw? And I could have something like, on my ankle? That's on my leg."

The dragon sniffs. "Hm."

They stare at each other...until Barry blows out a deep breath and murmurs, "How about just one leg?" Snart's eyes narrow. "Come on, I'm not making you mark your wings!"

"...that's true." Snart raises his head and says, as if he's granting a generous favor, "Alright, one leg."

"And one paw," Barry concludes.

"Mm. What are you putting on me, then?"

Barry blinks. "What?"

Amusement sparks in Snart's eyes. "It's  _your_ mark, Barry. Did you think they'd have a set of designs? Were you going to put a little flower on my paw?"

First Wells, now this. Is Patty the only dragon who's not an asshole? "What's yours then?"

Snart reaches for Barry's scarf, still tied around his antler. Turns out, Barry's scarf is also holding a piece of paper for him.

Barry has to ask: "Do you always use your antlers like a coat pocket?"

Snart gives him a draconic smirk and unfurls the paper.

"...what is that?"

"Well, it's incomplete now," Snart replies, miffed, "but since you insisted..."

"But what does it  _say_?"

Snart tilts his head. "An old Russian poem. My mother used to recite it. It starts on your right leg, as you'll be facing your readers most of the time. Or," he dips his chin, "it  _would_ have."

Barry swallows. He stares at the page: a collage of Russian letters, with snowflakes swirling around them and two large icicles standing on either side like bookends.

"You still haven't answered my question," he says.

Snart replies, "It's Pushkin's 'Winter Evening'."

Of course it is. "Snart," Barry says, "you  _really_ love the cold, don't you?"

The dragon readily answers, "Yes."

Well. At least he's honest about it. (A voice that sounds suspiciously like Joe adds,  _"And about nothin' else."_ )

A woman strolls out, followed by a gem green dragon whose lavender spots are illustrated with tattoos. Her bare arms and chest are likewise covered, darkened by her black cami.

Barry's surprised to see Snart perk up at the sight of her. "Shawna," he purrs, "I didn't know you were doing my rider's mark."

Shawna smiles, "As if I'd miss out on this. Hi," she says to Barry, holding out her hand, "Shawna Baez. This is my colleague, Gwen." Gwen nods. "She can't speak, so don't get offended if you wanna make small talk."

"Oh, uh—"

"So! What am I doing?" without waiting for an answer, Shawna looks at Snart's page. The second she does, she bursts into laughter. "Really, Len? Really?"

Snart remains neutral. Shawna shrugs, "Okay."

"Oh, but," Snart interrupts, "he only wants half."

Barry ducks his head. "Well...I mean..." damn it. His mother— _damn it_. "No, I. I'll have it on both legs."

Snart perks up again. He bumps Barry's head, nearly sending him off his feet. " _Wonderful_."

For a split second, Shawna looks close to gawking. She smooths over her expression quick enough and says, "Alright then. Tell Gwen what your design is for Len."

Oh. Uh.

Everyone's watching. Think of something, anything, come on—

"A zig zag," he blurts.

Shit.

Shawna releases a snort. "Len," she chides.

So Barry snaps, "I meant lightning! A lightning bolt. In a circle."

" _Len_."

"Thick too, like..." Barry scrambles in his pockets for a pen. He's not prepared for a lot of things, but today—"like this!"  _ha_! Got a pen this time!

He draws it in the corner of Snart's paper. "Yeah, liiiike...that! White and gold, too!"

Shawna smiles at him like his teachers used to when they called him a  _puppy_. Barry raises his eyebrow until she puts up a hand and schools her face again.

"Where?" she asks.

Snart looks to Barry, who pauses now. Since he's doing both of his legs..."Chest."

The dragon tilts his head with an unreadable expression. At length, he smirks and says, "As you wish."

"Alright," Shawna says, looking to be moments from laughing, "come on back."

 

Yes, it's  _very_ painful. It is so painful. Fuck everything.

"How you doin', Barry?"

He really wishes he could open his mouth to tell Snart to shut up. Unfortunately, he might cry out if he did.

Damn it.

 

Barry had texted Iris and Joe about his achieving a bond. He didn't tell them who.

So, as the sun sets over Central City, and Barry's forced to let himself be lifted onto Snart's back so he doesn't inspire fresh hot needles in his legs—which was probably the bastard's plan—there's no avoiding it any longer.

Snart displays his white and gold lightning bolt without a single twitch. "Where to, Barry?" and he could really sound a lot less smug.

Even though it's pretty awesome being on dragonback.  _Still_.

Barry crosses his arms and orders, "The infirmary. You have my bond now; I can see Patty."

Snart lets out a low roar. " _No_."

"But—!"

" _Where to_ , Barry?"

For fuck's— _fine_. He'll just see her later. Better without Snart anyway.

"Jitters," he says through grit teeth, taking out his phone.

"Good. Hold on."

Barry grips a cold spike and the saddle horn. "Okay, on the count of— _SNART!"_

**Author's Note:**

> The telepathy from the egg idea is robininthelabyrinth's, or on Ao3 nirejseki.
> 
> On another note: Caitlin is the way she is because, as in season 1, she hasn't been exposed to enough Barry Sunshine yet. We'll work on it.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
